


Shot through the heart (and you’re to blame)

by queenhomeslice



Series: Promptober 2020 [28]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Apologies, BAMF Prompto Argentum, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Gladio realizes Things, Kissing, M/M, Promptober 2020, Soft Gladiolus Amicitia, mild panic attacks, promptio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Gladio finally realizes that Prompto's a good fighter, and apologizes for making him feel less than.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum
Series: Promptober 2020 [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937668
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87





	Shot through the heart (and you’re to blame)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way. 
> 
> ________
> 
> Promptober Day 27: BAMF
> 
> Fic title from Bon Jovi's "You Give Love A Bad Name"

Each time Gladio quips “Knew you weren’t completely useless!” in battle, Prompto has trouble taking it as compliment. Obviously. He already knows he’s light years behind Noct and his retainers, who have been bred to fight. But dammit, Cor wouldn’t have accepted him and given him the few months of training if he hadn’t seen potential, right? Prompto _knows_ he’s an ace shot, and he’s incredibly grateful to have aged out of needing glasses. He can shoot with one eye closed and one hand behind his back, if he needed. He can snipe four giant wasps (ew ew ew) in the time it takes Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis to take down two between the three of them. He’s constantly upgrading his weapons, getting better in order to show the group that their investment in him is worthwhile. He's learning new techniques to kill enemies faster and more efficiently (Starshell, anyone? Who’d ever thought he’d be this cool?), and he hasn’t accidentally poisoned anyone in _weeks._ Still, even when they’re getting ambushed by a group of cactuars and Noct yells for him to take control, Prompto can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach that he gets when Gladio busts out the “not completely useless” line. Even when he’s holding a machine gun that weighs as much as he does (Prompto’s damn proud of his arms, thanks very much). Even when he manages to land the finishing blow to a daemon. 

It would hurt a lot less if he didn’t have such a massive crush on Gladiolus Amicitia. But Prompto’s a sucker for a pretty pair of eyes, and he’s always had a size kink, and damn if Gladio just doesn’t fit that bill. He’s also always been drawn to people who definitely don’t like him back, so—three for three, do I get a prize? 

______

Prompto sighs as his shoulders heave with the weight of the drillbreaker; the last of the magitek soldiers falls to the ground, dissipating into black ooze. Ugh, he can smell the Starscourge even from the edge of the battlefield where he’s standing. Gross. He sends the machine back into the Armiger and bends at the waist, resting his hands on his knees. He feels lightheaded—he really needs a potion, but of course, he’s not going to ask for one. The others probably need it more. He squints his eyes shut and tries to breathe, the adrenaline from the battle churning in his stomach, mixing with the anxiety that’s usually always there. He’s taking gasping breaths like he does after every battle, far away so that the others can’t see him. It’s always the same. What if this is their last fight? _His_ last fight? 

“Hey, Blondie!” 

Fuck, that’s Gladio. Prompto’s eyes shoot open—he's still bent over; his breathing has evened out. He’s still got goosebumps from the small panic attack, but he doesn’t feel nauseous anymore, so that’s a win. He straightens up as Gladio comes jogging over to him. Ugh, it’s just not fair. Having to be in close quarters with Gladio’s muscles twenty-four seven is a nightmare for his libido, and knowing that Gladio thinks that the party would be fine without him doesn’t detract from the way that he feels. If anything, it makes Prompto even more enamored, desperate to prove himself, to do so well in battle that Gladio’s mind will change. So that Gladio will see his worth. So that Gladio will come and scoop him up in his big beef arms and give him a victory kiss (or victory sex, that would work too). 

Prompto clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, giving the shield a half-hearted smile. “Hey Gladio,” he says. “You okay?” 

“Me? I’m always okay, short stuff.” 

Prompto bristles, trying not to think of the height—and size difference—between him and the older man. He gulps. “Yeah, that’s good. Uh. Good job, as always! You really gave the troops the ol’ what-for!” 

Gladio raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Thanks, but uh...” He coughs. 

Wait—is Gladio _blushing?_ Prompto didn’t even know Gladio could blush. He stays silent, waiting for Gladio to finish. 

“What I mean is, uh. Shit. You did good out there today, too, kid. Better’n any of us.” 

Prompto laughs. Inside he’s screaming. Did the Astrals drag him into a parallel universe? “I wouldn’t go that far.” He bites his lip, shaking his own head. “After all, I’m just doing the bare minimum to show I’m not completely useless, right?” He feels his voice grow quieter, and his breath hitches at the end. Damn, now he’s gonna cry in front of Gladio? Pathetic. He squints his eyes and rubs them. 

“Prompto,” says Gladio, a little softer. 

“It’s fine big guy, you don’t have to lie to me.” 

“I ain’t lyin’.” 

Prompto’s full-on sobbing into his hands now, and he can’t be arsed to hide it anymore. He just wants to be good. To be useful. To protect his prince. To be _wanted_. 

“Hey, hey, don’t--ah, fuck.” Gladio sighs and moves to wrap his arms around the younger man, completely enveloping him. He feels a surge of warmth from his head to his toes when he squeezes Prompto flush against himself. Gladio cranes his neck down to rest his head on Prompto’s fluffy tufts of blonde hair. 

They stay like that for who knows how long, Prompto eventually stops crying, and when his breathing seems normal, Gladio steps back and places his fingers under Prompto’s chin, tilting it upwards. Damn. Gladio didn’t realize how pretty Prompto’s eyes were. And his freckles...Gladio’s hand seems to move on its own as he drags his knuckles across the brown dots, streaking Prompto’s tears to the side of his face. The blond just stares at him, pink chapped lips parted in awe. 

“I’m sorry,” says Gladio quietly. “I make you feel that way, don’t I? It’s not fair to you.” 

Prompto sucks in a breath and shakes his head. “No you’re right, I mean I’m not as good as you guys are, and I’ve barely had three months’ of training before we left Insomnia. I’m only good at ranged attacks, I--” 

“Hey,” says Gladio, continuing to dust Prompto’s cheeks with his knuckles. His stomach is doing flips as he notices the dilation in Prompto’s eyes and the deep blush that follows as he continues his feather-light touches over Prompto’s tear-stained skin. “No. Listen. I was wrong. And I’m sorry. You _are_ as good as us. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. Watching you today...fuck, Blondie. You’re a BAMF.” 

Prompto giggles and snorts, shaking in Gladio’s grip. He hopes his body isn’t betraying him, hopes Gladio doesn’t notice the goosebumps; but damn does it feel good to be in Gladio’s arms. He exhales slowly and looks back up at Gladio. “You mean that?” 

“Yeah, I do. I really do.” 

“Hm,” says Prompto playfully. “I’ll accept your apology on one condition.” 

“Anything,” says Gladio, feeling his heart speed up. Is this what they mean by crush at first sight? Before, Prompto had always been Noct’s little commoner friend. And then the trip came, and Cor had managed to get him a couple of months’ worth of firearm training—Gladio never paid him much attention, merely tolerating him for Noct’s sake. But after Prompto had gone to bed last night, Noct had chewed him a new hole—Gladio had never seen the prince so mad. So Gladio had vowed to hang back on the battlefield today as much as he could and really watch Prompto’s techniques and special abilities in action. And wow. Gladio was always so wrapped up in doing his own thing, or working in attack combos with Noct, that he never really paid that much attention to how Prompto fought. 

Consider his eyes—and possibly his heart—open. Why had it taken so long for his eyes to see what was right in front of him? 

Prompto grins, biting his lip—Gladio wonders if he knows how cute he is. 

“Uh,” says Prompto. “You could...you could give me a victory kiss?” 

If Gladio weren’t still holding Prompto tightly around the waist, he thinks he might’ve fallen over at the blond’s words. But he just stares down at the insanely talented firearms specialist and grins. “I think I can do that.” 

Prompto struggles for air for the second time that afternoon—but this time, it’s under much better circumstances. He melts into Gladio’s kiss and can’t help but quietly moan. He hopes he can continue to show Gladio _all_ of his hidden talents. 


End file.
